Bella and the Merciless Sheikh

‘I’m not jealous.’ His thickened tone cut through the tense atmosphere and his hands tightened on her shoulders. ‘And your morals are your own business.’

‘Then why are you so angry? If you don’t care, why are you standing there yelling at me?’

‘Because Rachid can’t cope with a woman like you.’

‘Rachid can cope with a great deal more than you think.’ She thought back to the numerous conversations she’d had with the prince since that first day. ‘He wants more responsibility, Zafiq, but the problem is you’re so brilliant at everything he feels daunted! You need to praise him, make him feel good about himself! Not everyone is as confident as you are—being given responsibility helps confidence.’

‘What do you know about responsibility?’

It was a fair comment, but Bella was too wound up to be reasonable. ‘I know how it feels never to be given any! Your siblings aren’t children any more. Take a tip from me—if you believe someone will always screw up, then they probably will. Why don’t you try showing some faith in people and see what happens? You can practise on me for a start! I’ve been busting a gut here to make sure I don’t put a foot wrong and you haven’t once bothered to come down and say I’m doing well. You told me I’d last a day, and I’ve been here a month so stick that in your…your…Bedouin tea and drink it,’ she finished lamely.

He released her so suddenly that she staggered and Bella rubbed her hands down her arms, not because he’d hurt her but because being held by him had felt unbelievably good after all these weeks without him. She’d been in a different sort of desert, she thought miserably. A barren wilderness without Zafiq.

‘You seem to know a great deal about my family. You will tell me who has been gossiping about Rachid.’

‘No one has been gossiping! I’ve talked to him in person. Believe it or not, we have quite a lot in common! I know what it’s like to have a glamorous, high-spending mother. And I know how it feels to hear everyone around you criticising the person you were raised to love.’

Amira shifted in the box and Zafiq put out a hand to calm the animal. ‘Our family situation is extremely complicated—’

‘Don’t talk to me about complicated!’ Bella erupted, and suddenly all the emotions she’d been bottling up exploded to the surface, refusing to be contained. ‘Six weeks ago I discovered that my younger sister—my sister who I’ve lived with all my life, my sister who I went to school with and played with—isn’t my father’s child and that my mother wasn’t the saintly person I always thought she was. My father hates me, the whole world hates me, my younger sister hates me and even my twin has turned her back on me, so don’t talk to me about complicated!’

Damn, damn, damn.

Why couldn’t she be icily calm? Why couldn’t she ever keep herself together when she needed to?

Her outburst was greeted by a prolonged silence and then he raked his fingers through his hair, his own control clearly challenged. ‘You are so emotional. I am quite sure your father does not hate you,’ Zafiq breathed, ‘and perhaps it would be wise to consider the possibility that your sister has not turned her back on you, but been unable to get in touch. You’ve been marooned in the desert. And as for the world—the world’s opinion doesn’t matter.’

‘Try seeing your face splashed over every newspaper before you say that.’ Bella gave an undignified sniff and wiped her eyes on her T-shirt, furious with herself for crying. ‘And maybe my father doesn’t exactly hate me, but he certainly can’t bear to look at me because I remind him of my mother, and that’s pretty hurtful, I can tell you.’